


Intuition

by blackPlague



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackPlague/pseuds/blackPlague
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chekov has a hard time breathing around the captain and that may or may not be due to the fact that too-blue eyes make his mind wander and too tight pants make his mouth water. So yeah, he has a crush on Jim Kirk. No big, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intuition

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the [Star Trek Into Darkness Kink Meme](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=380831#t380831).
> 
> *unanons*

It begins in engineering. 

Chekov has been shadowing Scotty for a few months now and Scotty has grown fond of the kid; lets him do small, menial tasks that make him feel like he’s contributing. 

They’re docked off on sector 8 while a problem with the hull is fixed. The Enterprise and its crew learned the hard way that a group of angry Iotians are nothing to be trifled with.

Most everyone is idle: some sleeping, some wandering around. Then there’s Chekov, with his bouncy feet and his genuine smile. He asks Scotty, “What elze iz there to do?” and Scotty just smiles a little, shakes his head. 

“Nothin’ to do lad. Jus’ relax for a moment, will ye?”

So Chekov kind of frowns and opens his mouth to say something else, and that is the exact moment when Jim Kirk walks in. 

Chekov’s mouth goes dry and he almost drops the clipboard in his hands while fumbling around for something to do. Kirk wrinkles his eyebrows at him then turns his attention to Scotty.

“You got those papers for me, Scotty?” 

Scotty nods and looks behind him, grabs a stack of papers and holds them out to the Captain. 

“All yours, sir.”

Kirk sighs deeply and grabs the stack, turns on his heel and starts walking back from whence he came. 

Chekov looks up from his shoes, which have become incredibly interesting, glances at Scotty, and makes a split second decision.

“Keptin Kirk! Keptin Kirk!”

Kirk sighs again and looks behind him to see his ensign jogging to catch up with him. 

“Chekov,” he says. “Going back to the bridge?” 

“No zir! Can I help you with zese papers, zir?”

Kirk shrugs a little and hands the stack over. Chekov stumbles a little but steadies himself and follows along obediently behind his captain. 

The walk back to the lift is a long one, so Kirk clears his throat and prepares for the small talk. 

“So, Chekov, what’s going on with you? Got any lady friends?”

Chekov feels his face heat up at the question. “Uh, no zir. I am not, uh, romantically involved with anyone.”

The Captain gives him a sideway glance. “Why not? Dashing young man like yourself.” 

Chekov swears his entire face is red. 

Then Kirk gets on the elevator, takes the papers from Chekov and winks slightly; leaves the eighteen year old gulping audibly with a hot face and dirty thoughts.

Okay so, it’s not that Chekov hasn’t thought of it before but now he’s thinking of it way more often than he should. Ever since he saw Jim Kirk around the academy, he had a kindofbutnotreally crush on the man, and now to be in his acquaintance and presence makes Chekov feel lightheaded sometimes. 

Is it bad that he wants to kiss the living daylights out of his Captain, for crying out loud? He thinks so. 

\--

The hull will take three days to fix. 

The Captain issues an unplanned shore leave which leaves everyone in high spirits. 

Tress is a humid planet, made of half sand and half water. The crew is buzzing with the promise of beach and sand and bars. Chekov swears he can hear the excitement all the way to his room, where he packs a small bag and considers not going down to the planet at all, staying on ship, finishing that book he got for his birthday.

He feels mellow in the midst of all the excitement. He is reading his book quietly on the shuttle, waiting for it to depart when he feels a hand clap onto his shoulder. 

He jumps a bit but looks back and focuses his sights in Captain Jim Kirk, who is all smiles and shining blue eyes and damn that man; he’s too pretty. The Captain takes a seat next to Chekov and keeps his sight on the younger man. 

“Chekov!” He exclaims. “All ready for three days of fun in the sun?” 

Chekov stutters a bit, “Y-yes zir! I am wery excited for the shore leawe.”

Jim’s smile brightens. “Good, good. We all need a break don’t you think? Some more than others, right?” And he winks at Chekov, and Chekov just smiles back tentatively. “Yes, definitely.”

\--

Chekov is having a terrible night. 

He’s in a bar and most (if not all) of his crewmates are in various states of inebriation. He himself is nursing a rapidly warming beer and feeling the beginnings of a headache start up behind his eyes. He closes them and thinks that he should have stayed on the Enterprise. 

He lost track of Sulu long ago and can hear Scotty’s almost unintelligible accent coming for a darkened bar corner. Others he usually never interacts with sit around the mostly crowded bar but he’s not focused on any of them, no. His eyes are glued onto the back of Jim’s head while he chats up a pretty blonde with a third eye and a high ponytail. Chekov chugs down the rest of his beer and stops a waitress for two shots of whiskey. 

He’s fairly buzzed by the time he gets up and makes his way toward his room, having had enough self pity for the night. 

He’s in the elevator and the doors are closing but then a hand shoots in between them and they open back up to reveal a slightly panting Jim Kirk. Chekov stumbles over his words for a moment but manages a small, “K-Keptin!”

Jim looks at him penetratingly, says without infliction, “Going up?” 

Then he strides in and presses a button at random, the doors close and Chekov has a hard time breathing. 

The elevator is quiet, save for the telltale ding of passing floors and just when Chekov thinks the silence will explode he hears Kirk’s voice, quiet as a whisper, “I saw you looking at me.”

Chekov jumps out of his skin at the words, low and quiet; smooth as velvet. He glances over to his Captain and finds him staring straight at him, eyes blue and piercing. Chekov feels a thrill roll up his spine.

The elevator comes to a stop on his floor and Chekov glances out, glances at his Captain (who has not stopped staring at him), glances out and makes a split second decision.

His head is buzzing but he presses the number furthest of where they are and down they go. This conversation is not over. 

Jim licks his lips subconciously and Chekov follows the movement, mind wandering.

“Did you hear me?” Jim asks. “I said,” he takes a step closer to the boy. “I saw you looking at me.” 

Chekov finds bravado inside him that he’s not sure where it comes from, but it makes him puff out his chest and ask his captain, “So?”

The elevator dings and they’re back on a different floor. Jim takes another step closer, “So,” he pushes a button to keep the elevator going, and up it is. “Why?”

The Captain is too close and a bell goes off in Chekov’s head but he doesn't pull away. The alcohol in his head is breaking down his inhibitions but even then he wouldn't be able to explain his actions.

He lunges forward and kisses his Captain. 

Jim stays stock still and for three seconds, Chekov thinks he has just been fired from the best job he’s ever had; but then—Kirk is groaning and responding eagerly, molding his lips against Chekov’s and gripping the boys hips. The elevator reaches its destination again and Chekov pulls back, presses his floor number and turns back to Kirk. 

Jim’s lips are parted and glossy and red; his eyes are closed, and he’s panting. Chekov goes to kiss him again but Kirk’s eyes snap open and he’s looking at Chekov blankly. The boy freezes and his frame is instantly overcome with nervousness. 

Jim trails his fingers down Chekov’s cheek, whispers, “You’re just a kid. I can’t do this.”

Chekov looks at him pleadingly, all wide eyes and desperation. The elevator dings open. Kirk holds the door open and doesn’t look at the boy. 

“Please,” the word out of Chekov’s mouth is quiet and powerful. “Please, Keptin.”

Jim shakes his head and steadfastly ignores the boy. But then the boy is grabbing his face and kissing him deeply, and Jim can only melt into his touch.

From elevator to hallway, and somehow maneuvered into Chekov’s room, their lips grow frantic and their movements fierce. Jim feels himself heating up under Chekov’s touch, and when he brings Chekov’s hips to his own, he moans at the feeling. 

Chekov’s hand flies down to Jim’s crotch and he presses down hard, squeezes around his cock, making Jim moan at the contact. 

“Please, can I… Please,” come Chekov’s choked pleads. Jim pins him to a wall and kisses him hard and bruising. The hand on his crotch never ceases its movements. 

Jim moans again and slides a hand to the boy’s hair, grips it tight. He pulls Chekov’s head back, exposing his neck. He grins filthily.

“Oh you— you just wanted to touch me, didn't you? You slut. You want me, don’t you? Want me in your mouth, stretching your pretty pink lips over my cock?” 

Chekov moans at the words and closes his eyes, squeezes Kirk’s dick.

“Yeah,” comes Jim’s rough voice. “Want me to fuck you and make you come? Touch your pretty little cock?”

Chevok moans and bucks his hips, presses his hands down harder. Jim pulls on his hair tighter, “Get on your knees.”

Chekov scrambles down to his knees in the blink of an eye, unbuckles Jim’s belt with shaking hands and tugs his pants down to mid-thigh. He mouths over the outline of Jim’s cock carefully, relishing the sighs and moans coming from the older man’s mouth; in the way his hand tightens in the boy’s hair. 

“Fuck, don’t be a tease, c’mon.”

Chekov smirks a little, feeling pleased and pulls the underwear down as well, letting Jim’s cock bob free of its confines. He wastes no time in wrapping his lips around the head, already red and throbbing. It feels heavy on his tongue but he can’t get enough, can’t let it go. He bobs his head, swallowing Kirk down, making him groan deeply. He hears Kirk’s forehead thump against the wall. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you? Love taking my cock?” He thrusts shallowly, making Chekov gag, then moan. Kirk shivers. “You kinky bastard.” He thrusts again. And again. And again. 

Chekov chokes and presses a hand down on his own crotch. He’s already embarrassingly close from not even having been touched. It takes a few more of Kirk’s thrusts and swears and moans, until Chekov is whimpering and coming in his pants like the teenager he is. He moans around Jim’s dick.

“You came from just this? God, you are a slut. Maybe next time I’ll fuck you properly, hard and slow, until you come all over your stomach. Fuck,” he groans, and chokes out a whimper. “Close.”

A few more thrusts and he’s buried in Chekov’s convulsing throat, coming hard. The boy coughs a bit but all Jim has to do is say, “Swallow,” and Chekov relaxes his throat, swallows as much as he can. 

Kirk breathes heavily as Chekov tucks him back into his underwear and tugs up his pants. He looks awkward now that they’re done, fidgeting and looking away. 

Jim takes a deep breath and pulls him in, looks him in the eye; kisses him hard. 

“Uh, Keptin, I…” 

Jim kisses him again. “Call me Jim. And I hope you’ll be ready to go again soon. I have a favor to return.”

Chekov shivers.


End file.
